Night Terrors
by AltoOwl
Summary: When Sammy starts getting nightmares, night after night Dean comforts him back to a safer slumber. So of course when Dean gets some of his own troubles, Sam will try to help, although maybe not to the same effect. Wee-chesters


It was in just another town. Along a main highway, with nothing surrounding it for miles, there laid a lonely motel sitting next to a busy road, looking very beat up and shabby. The motel, just an average motel, said its name in cursive black font on its lopsided sign, and it looked like it was going to be empty for the night, not highly unusual for it, being so far from any real development. It was only an hour until midnight when its only customers for the night pulled up to the motel in a black Impala. Inside was a slightly tired driver, a couple of discarded bags from a fast food restaurant, loud rock music, a boy jamming out playing some invisible drums to the beat of the music, and a younger boy fast asleep in the backseat, with his hands subconsciously over his ears. Parking the car, the driver, John Winchester, went to the lobby, a small house opposite of the motel rooms, to check out a room for the night, leaving his boys in the car. Dean, who was only nine at the time, carefully pulled all of their things, a measly amount of two duffle bags, out of the car, completely accustomed to the drill. It didn't take long for John to return, bearing a key to their room.

"It's number six," he told Dean before opening up the backseat and picking up the still-asleep Sam. John and Dean both slowly lugged their heavy loads towards the room, only across the way from where they had parked the Impala.

The door was one in a row of ten dark brown doors facing the parking lot, with a sidewalk and some greenery between them. The number six was embezzled onto the door on a small gold plate. Shifting the weight of Sam, who was still sound asleep, John used a small, slightly-scuffed, key to unlock the door. After hearing the bolt unlatch, he swung the door open. The room was small but cozy, with a mini kitchen area, followed by two full-sized beds, a nightstand in between, a television across from there, and a bathroom on the far end. John went to the bed on the far side of the room and gently laid Sam on top of the crisp, white sheets, the farthest he could be from the entrance.

He then headed for the door without a glance at Dean, who was setting the bags on the other bed, only stopping to tell him, " 'M going out, you watch out for your brother, alright?"

Obediently Dean replied, "Yes sir!" With that, John left the room, slamming the door behind him. Sam didn't stir at the sound, but it made Dean's thoughts stir with discontent. He was probably going off to get drunk… _again._

Dean glanced around the room, ready to get situated. The room wasn't all that bad, especially in comparison to others he'd been in during the past few years. It was dimly lit by the lamp he had flipped on on his way in. As far as he could tell, there wasn't any mold, infestations of insects, or rodents crawling around the room, already making it into the top thirty. Too tired to unpack or shower, Dean came up to the bed Sam was on, and pulled the covers out from underneath him, then placed them over the sleeping child. Then he went to the other side of the bed and crawled in himself, reached over to turn off the light, before rolling over and going to sleep himself.

He awoke to the sensation of shaking. The bed was rocking like a ship rolling in rough waters, but much more uneven and unpredictable. Why was the bed rocking? Dean questioned, a bit frightened, before a possibility dawned on him. What if a monster was trying to get Sammy? With that one thought, he was suddenly alert. He quickly sat up and turned towards the other side of the bed. In the dim lighting he could see the outline of Sam still lying beside him curled in a small ball, and he was safe, but not sound. He was the source of the rockings, unconsciously doing them, most likely in a nightmare. Taking a quick, squinted glance around, Dean made sure there were no creatures in the dark, and they were in fact completely alone. Satisfied in finding no signs of life, Dean crawled closer to Sam and gently awoke him from his slumber.

The bed stopped shaking as Sam slowly opened his bleary eyes. Very vaguely, Dean could see the terror amidst his younger brother's eyes. Slight tremors ran through Sam's body as Dean reached over to him and held him close. He could feel Sam's heart racing, just jumping out of his chest. It only made him hold his younger brother tighter, as if to protect him from what was scaring him.

"It's alright," he whispered. "It's just a nightmare."

Sam softly asked in response, "Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy, it's me. Don't worry, you are alright."

With that, Sam calmed down considerably. They laid there a few more moments, not moving, simply enjoying one another's presence. Eventually, Sam's heartbeat and breathing slowed back down to normal.

Certain that Sammy was alright now, Dean asked him about the nightmare.

"What was wrong Sammy?" he coaxed softly into his brother's ear. What he was doing seemed very girly to him, but it was three in the morning, and there weren't any witnesses besides five-year-old Sammy, who didn't count (he wouldn't remember!). Besides, it seemed like something their mom would have done, and Dean was determined to fill in that hole for Sam.

"C-Clowns," Sam whispered back nervously.

Dean would have laughed if Sam didn't look as beaten up as he did. There were vampires, werewolves, all sort of monsters out in the world, and Sam was scared of clowns. It could be worse, Dean thought to himself. At least he's not scared of unicorns or something stupid like that.

Uncertain by what his brother's silence meant, Sam continued shakily, "Big scary clowns. And they were trying to eat me!"

"It's okay now, Sammy, they won't get you," Dean said, soothing Sam. "And if they try they'll have to get through me!"

Sam smiled a bit and snuggled closer to Dean. Feeling much more content, the younger boy easily fell back into the grips of slumber, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts, gently rubbing small circles on his unconscious brother's back. Thinking about what he said earlier, Dean affirmed to himself that he had meant what he said. He would protect Sammy against anything, including clowns. Feeling oddly alleviated by making his internal vow, Dean fell back to sleep with ease, with Sam still resting in his arms, and he dreamed peacefully about, oddly enough, big cannibalistic clowns.

* * *

The following day bore the beginning of a brand new experience for Sam: school. He had been in all sorts of daycares prior to this hunt, from traditional to shady to Bobby's unofficial one, but due to his age he had yet to be enrolled in an actual elementary school like Dean had been countless times. Since he was now kindergarten-aged, John no longer had to "pay" for someone to watch Sam while he was on a hunt and Dean was in school. And that day, in that average town, was when young Sammy was registered for his first elementary school, BayLake Elementary.

It wasn't a grand event for anyone but Sammy. John was used to it, Dean was through with it, and the clerk who was registering them had done this countless times before. It was a simple procedure, paperwork, testing for their levels, more paperwork, a talk with the principal and their new teachers, more paperwork, a tour of the school, and even more paperwork, but the process took most of the day. By the time they finished, it was nearly six, enough time to go eat dinner at the nearest diner before they trekked back to the motel.

Dinner was a small affair, the entire diner empty except for them and one older couple. Their server was a grandmotherly lady, her hair not quite gray, but her demeanor very old-fashioned and loving. The meal was silent except for the clattering of the forks against plates, and the server's checkups on them. It wasn't too unusual for John and Dean, but it was a bit strange for Sam to be silent. Dean noticed, but put it off as anything to worry about. Sam was probably just tired after this big day.

It was nearly seven o'clock when they returned to their room, number six. Sam and Dean each got showered and ready for bed, while John sat on his bed near the door, reading a thick, giant book, researching for his latest hunt.

Before long Sam and Dean were ready for bed, dressed in their pajamas. Both were sitting on the edge of their bed, feet dangling above the ground as John gave them some final reminders before he left for his hunt.

"Remember, the bus will be at the bus stop at 8:05 tomorrow through Friday, don't be late! The school will provide you with lunch so don't bother packing any. I should be back by Saturday morning to check-in on you, if I'm not call Bobby. And Dean, look after Sammy!" After giving that speech, he allowed Sam to hug him, gave a nod to Dean, and grabbed his stuff before heading out the door without any guilt at leaving his young children alone for a week.

"Alright Sammy, time for bed!" Dean said with fake cheerfulness, to get Sam's mind off their father's absence.

"But… Dean," Sam whined, giving Dean some puppy eyes.

Dean would have responded "No buts", but he couldn't resist the puppy eyes, so begrudgingly he gave in. "Fine, but only for fifteen more minutes." In response, Sam gave him a tight hug, and turned on the room's television for a few minutes. When the fifteen minutes had passed Sam obediently turned the TV off and laid down to fall asleep, with Dean not too far behind him, falling asleep moments later.

That night, Dean dreamed of his mother. Of happy memories, some of them faint real ones, and others originating from the depths of his imagination. In contrast, puppies and bright colors danced around Sammy's very whimsical dream. Both were peaceful for the night, until Sam's dream took an unexpected turn. The puppies turned into a teacher and class of students, and the bright colors transformed into books and desks. Not all that bad, except the students and teacher were all pointing and laughing at one thing, Sammy.

With that, he'd had enough. Sammy sat up, waking up instantly. He sat there for a few moments, letting a few tears flow freely through his eyes, terror gripping him tightly. He attempted to just go back to sleep and not disturb Dean (he had to brave like Dean and solve his own problems), but the longer he laid there, the terror swelled up inside him, to the point that he gave in.

"Dean, Dean!" Sam whispered desperately, shaking his brother's shoulder gently.

"Ugh… Sammy," Dean groaned. Then he woke up with a start when he realized something bad could be happening. He sat up, and quickly looked around for trouble. He found none. Instead he found Sammy, scared once again, and unfortunately it was most likely another nightmare.

"Dean!" Sam whispered again.

"Yes Sammy?" Dean asked.

"I'm scared," he said simply.

"Of what?" Dean pressed on. He wouldn't be able to go back to his much needed sleep until this problem was resolved. When Sammy said nothing in return, only breathing shakily, he resigned, putting his arm around Sam and bringing him close, trying to convey safety.

Dean asked again, very gently into his brother's hair, "What's wrong Sammy? What are you scared?"

That time, Sam replied, "I don't want to go to school."

That was definitely not what Dean was expecting. Sammy seemed excited all day, throughout the torturous process, wait sorry, the "enrollment process," and he was a bright kid. He'd do great. Why would Sammy be afraid of school?

He voiced his thought, "What? Sammy, you're going to do amazing in school! I just know it."

"Really?" Sammy questioned, sounding hopeful. Then his face fell. "But what if the other kids laugh at me, and think I'm stupid?"

"Yes really, and if any of those kids think about teasing you, they'll have to be really stupid and get through me," Dean lightly threatened. Sammy is _so_ insecure, Dean thought to himself. I guess it's partly because of Dad… and because he's only five, he added as an afterthought.

"Thanks Dean, I'm really glad that you're my brother," Sam said appreciatively. It was evident; he felt much better about the inevitable school the next day.

Glad that he could at least get some more sleep, Dean laid his head back on his pillow, and within seconds, both boys were back to sleep.

To say that Sam did great in school the next day and in the years that followed it was an understatement. He certainly excelled in school, the genius of the Winchesters in everyone's eyes, except for John's. He didn't care at all about how the kids were doing in school, only focusing on one thing, the hunt. The lack of appreciation young Sammy received for his achievements from John was made up by Dean. He made sure to praise him for every achievement, no matter how small they were.

Although Sam was doing well at school, he still had troubles at night. Throughout their first week in the very average town and the rest of their stay, he was overwhelmed by nightmares. Both boys were becoming very sleep deprived as the weeks in that town dragged on, with only the two of them staying in their motel room, but they worked together, battling Sam's plethora of nightmares, clowns and school not even close to the worst of them. Thankfully, Sam was like any other young child and was comforted quite easily, but there was one incident that even Dean had a tough time getting him through.

It was on the Saturday that John paid a brief visit before taking off again, barely a week since they'd arrived. Bed routine was normal, but later since it was the weekend. Both boys could have used a good night's sleep, since over half of their previous tries were interrupted, but alas, it wasn't intended by fate.

It was the blood-curdling scream that woke Dean up. At the single sound, Dean's dreamless sleep ended, and he jerked himself upwards to a sitting position. Keeping to what had become a routine, he glanced around for anything out of the ordinary, and finding nothing he shook Sam, who was still screaming, back to consciousness. It took ten seconds, eight shakes, and three screams for Sam to finally wake up, six seconds, five shakes, and three screams more than average. That was the first sign that this nightmare was different. The second sign was perhaps the whimpering. Sam had never whimpered before, at least not in Dean's memory, but now he was whimpering almost uncontrollably, and Dean's presence didn't provide any comfort.

"Sam? Hey Sam! Sammy? Sam! Sammy, hey, everything's fine, it was just a dream," he said, attempting to catch Sam's attention. The younger boy was obviously still distressed. Seeing Dean would normally calm him, but that night it worked to no avail.

"Sammy! Listen to me!" Dean almost shouted firmly. His hands shook Sam's shoulder as he spoke. That snapped him out of his trance.

"Dean?" he asked before breaking out into tears.

"Hey Sammy I'm here. Don't worry, you're alright," Dean assured him, pulling him in close and stroking his hair. "I'm here," he murmured once again for good measure. Sam only cried in response.

Dean let him cry, sensing his brother's deep distress, and they laid like that for almost a half hour, Sam crying and Dean gently attempting to soothe him. Slowly it worked. Sam's tears stopped and were replaced with uneven breaths. They continued to lie there, enjoying each other's company without saying a word, but when he was sure his brother had settled some, Dean made sure to ask what it was about this time.

Shakily Sam responded with one word: "You." That left Dean shocked. How could Sammy have a bad dream about him? He'd never done anything to hurt Sammy in any way, he loved Sammy, and made sure to show it. How could his brother dream up something bad with him? He was the good memories.

Trying to not let the pain show (he knew Sammy couldn't really help what he dreamed about), Dean pressed further, "What about me? What did I do Sammy?"

Sam's face twisted as he said with more anguish then a five year-old should have, "You died." He pushed his face into Dean's chest. "We were both big like daddy, and you died! Again and again and again! You wouldn't stop dying!" His small body started shaking once again as began crying once more.

Dean couldn't believe it, Sammy dreaming of his death? It seemed so farfetched, so crazy, but he knew it had happened. Another small wail from Sam pushed these dumbstruck thoughts out of his head, and focused on what was more important, comforting Sam.

"Hey Sammy, it's alright, I'm right here, no one's dead," he told Sam quite a few times while he wailed silently in hysteria.

"But you did die! In my dream! You died in right in front of me and there was nothing I could do! You left me, all alone!" Sam cried out. He was too upset to care how stupid he looked, Dean's deaths had deeply disturbed him.

"Hey, hey Sammy look at me," Dean requested. Sam listened begrudgingly, his eyes planted on Dean's chin.

"I'm fine, and I'll always be there for, I'm right here. Always," Dean promised. Then he laughed. "Besides it's only a dream, it's not like you're predicting the future… Just a silly dream trying to scare you."

He paused. "Are you going to let that silly little dream scare you? You're my brave little Sammy, I can't have you scared by a dream!"

That swept away the fear. Sam (to whom the details of the dream were slipping away fast) wiped away his tears, looked up into Dean's eyes, and then gave him a tight hug.

"Thank you Dean," he whispered.

"No problem Sammy, that's what brothers are for," Dean whispered back. "Ready to go back to bed? We could both use some rest."

But Sammy was already asleep, his chest slowly rising and falling in nice, easy breaths. At that, Dean smiled. It was nice and rare to see Sam at ease at night. Brushing the night's events aside, Dean laid back and watched Sam's breathing until he too fell asleep.

They both stayed sleeping like that, a deep and content sleep, neither waking up until noon the following day.

It had been a full month in that one town before they left to head to a new place.

Nothing was really new, and the routine was the same. Sam still had tons of nightmares, Dean still protected him as much as possible, and John still drank, abandoned his kids, and hunted.

John had left, off to go hunt what he believed was a nest of vampires, which left Sam and Dean alone once again in their motel room for at least a week, but most likely three. They were going to school here, but as Sam had put it after their first day, "The kids here suck. The teachers here suck. The classes here suck. Basically everything here sucks!" Dean easily agreed this hadn't been one of the best places they'd been.

They sucked it up and made do with what they had though, soon getting into a routine of sorts, just like they had at the last place and places before it. They woke up, ate, went to school, came home, did homework (Sam), improved hunting skills (Dean), ate dinner, went to bed, and then usually woke up for one of Sam's nightmares. It went on for about a week, until one Tuesday Dean broke the chain.

"Hey Sammy, I'm back from the store!" Dean called out as he entered the motel room. He walked in carrying two plastic bags and expected Sam to practically jump on him in greeting (as if he'd been gone for years rather than an hour). Instead, he didn't even see Sam. In fact there was no sign that Sam was even in the motel room. Dean dropped the grocery bags on the table and started to search.

"Sam?" he called out, panicked. He received no answer.

"Sammy?" he cried out again.

"Dean!" He heard Sam scream from behind him. Dean whipped his head to face the vicinity from which he heard Sam, and saw a sight from his worst fears. Sam sat on one of the beds with a knife to his neck. Behind him stood a figure masked in a ski-mask and dark clothing; it was his arm that was holding the knife.

Dean tried to run to Sam, but found himself frozen in place.

"Sammy," he yelled, "are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

Sam's cries wretched through Dean. "Dean! Dean, save me!" he pleaded.

Horrifically, the absolute worst happened. The masked figure bore an evil smirk and with a single stroke, beheaded Sam. Sam's terrified expression landed down on the floor with a slight bounce, his head completely dismembered.

All Dean could do was scream, "Sammy!"

* * *

"Sammy! Your pool is awesome," one of Sam's best friends at his new school told him enthusiastically.

They were at the pool, Sam's pool, and they were swimming around on a hot summer afternoon. All of Sam's friends and Dean were there with them, with joyful grins evident everywhere.

Sam knew it was a dream. It was too good to be true, even to his young mind, but he was enjoying it all the same.

"Sammy!" He heard a faint voice call out his name. He stopped, and looked around curiously, no one in the dream had said anything.

 _That's weird_ , he thought, puzzled. He eventually fell back into the relaxed rhythm of the dream, but became more concerened when he heard his name again, a bit louder.

"Sammy!"

 _Who said that?_ Greatly bewildered, Sam stayed there, transfixed in his dream as he tried to piece this together with only half his mind. He wasn't there long though, as the confusion was to much for his asleep mind. So slowly the dream faded away, and he woke up back in a motel room, lying beside Dean.

It was only then he found the source of those mysterious calls. It was Dean, who, although he was sleeping, was anything but okay. He was thrashing about, sweating and mumbling, and as Sam moved to wake him up, he couldn't help but ask, _is this what I'm like during my nightmares?_

He didn't try to answer, and instead awoke Dean with a shake. "Dean, hey, Dean, are you alright? Were you having a nightmare?" he tried to whisper, but was much louder than a whisper.

Silence. "Yeah." Dean couldn't lie to his brother about that, and the truth was way too obvious. "But it's fine, go back to sleep." It wasn't fine, but it's not like anyone could really help, he wasn't five like Sam. _I can deal with this_ , he told himself. _I'm tough, like Dad_.

Unfortunately Sam wouldn't hear of it. "No, let me help you," he demanded.

Dean could have easily brushed his efforts off; he would've, except something stopped him. He willingly let Sam attempt to wrap his short arms around him, whisper comforting words into his ear, and rock him gently, as he had done many time to Sammy.

Except it wasn't the same, Sam's arms constricted Dean rather than embrace, his whispers were incomprehensible, and he could barely get a small rock going. Yet Dean appreciated it, after all it was the thought that counts. He let Sammy do his "helping" for a while, before slowing sliding himself out from beneath him.

"Thanks," Dean murmured, before yawning. "You should probably go back to sleep now kiddo."

"No Dean, tell me what your dream was about."

Dean could tell he was being given puppy eyes, even in the dark, but not seeing them, he wouldn't relent. "No... this isn't for you to hear."

Sam pouted and complained but at Dean's encouragement was coaxed back to sleep. It didn't take long for Dean to follow, because, although he'd never admit later, his last thoughts before darkness the darkness engulfed him were about how grateful he was for Sam's help, admitting for that brief moment that somehow, Sammy's methods worked for him.

* * *

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